


reflections of the fears (i know i've left behind)

by huphilpuffs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Nail Polish, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huphilpuffs/pseuds/huphilpuffs
Summary: There’s something about seeing such a visual representation of his own queerness that has pride burning in Dan's chest.





	reflections of the fears (i know i've left behind)

Dan's reflection frowns back at him from the silver-framed mirror. 

He shifts, rearranging his shirt, sticking one leg out, but it’s not right. Not that he expected it to be. He threw on his most inconspicuous jumper before stepping outside into the summer heat, and the flat black fabric is  _ fine _ , it’s just not what he wants. Not today.

They have one day, framed by legs of the tour and days full of pre-filming videos. One day to just exist in their own home and rest and  _ breathe.  _

Dan thinks he should probably want to spend it in his pants and a comfy jumper, sitting on the sofa and doing absolutely nothing. And he probably will do just that, later, after this weight on his chest has settled.

He needs this. One day in the middle of June.

He already went outside today, too early in the morning to a hole in the wall nail salon where he hoped no one would recognize him. He’d booked a private appointment from a hotel toilet in Sweden, showed up in that black jumper with a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and a shy smile on his face.

The woman there had painted his nails black, careful and precise. And when he’d quietly asked if she could put a rainbow accent on one of his fingers, she’d painted delicate, colourful stripes at the tip of his ring finger. 

He can see it in the mirror now, just a flash of colour where his hand hangs by his side. It draws a smile to his face.

Dan tugs the jumper over his head, throws it onto the bed. He shoves his shorts down his legs and kicks them aside, leaving them on the floor. It only takes him a moment to find what he wants to wear instead, digging through some of their clean laundry from tour, through a drawer layered with clothes he’s rarely brave enough to wear.

The singlet, first, falls over his frame in a foreign, comfortable way. He pulls his mesh shirt over it, feeling the brush of light fabric over his skin.

This, he’s worn before, but it feels different now, laced with something more meaningful than throwing it on between shows.

He pulls on his shortest pair of shorts to go with it, the ones he doesn’t wear outside very often because insecurity prickles under his skin.

But today isn’t about insecurity. It’s about so much more.

Dan turns to stare at his reflection again, watches his smile spread across his own face. 

It’s a little clumsy, the outfit of someone who hasn’t been able to fully embrace this side of themselves for a full twenty-seven years.

There’s a flash of skin through his top and the paleness of his legs on display. A gleam of silver where he popper his earring back in and stripes of colour on his fingertips. His curls are perfectly in place from the haircut he got when they returned to London, and his dimples pop happily in his cheeks.

It’s perfect. It’s–

_ Queer. _

Pride is usually a small, subtle thing that lingers in his chest, a quiet hum of self-acceptance and community. But this,  _ this  _ is different. It’s there and present and still a little subtle, but Dan remembers the boy who was once scared of looking  _ too gay  _ and this is also everything.

Heart-warming and beautiful and  _ proud.  _

There’s something about it, about seeing such a visual representation of his own queerness, that has pride burning in his chest. 

He leaves the bedroom slowly, sneaking glances at his own reflection and feeling vain for it. But he feels warm and content, like every minute step towards self-acceptance has led to this insignificant moment that, somehow, feels so incredibly important.

Phil looks up at him when he steps into a lounge, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“You look good,” he says.

Dan feels his cheeks flush pink. “Can you take some photos of me outside?”

Phil does, sitting in their garden in his usual shorts and a t-shirt, taking pictures of Dan surrounded by plants and wearing rainbows on his hands. Smiling and laughing and encouraging with the wordless sweep of his gaze over where the mesh shirt allows Dan’s chest to show, at where dark nail polish cuts across his fingertips.

He hands Dan’s phone back to him with a grin and quick press of his lips to Dan’s cheek. 

“I love you,” he says.

Dan kisses him quickly before looking at the photos, a silent thank you and unspoken  _ I love you too.  _

And then he does look at them. At where afternoon sunlight gleams on his exposed shoulders. At the one where he cradles his jaw in his hand, and can see the cut of rainbow stripes below his cheekbone. At a candid one where laughter crinkles the corners of his eyes. 

At this piece of himself he’s spent years carefully unpacking into something he can let other people see.

He won’t post the photos. Pride month selfies still feel like too much, and by the time June fades into July they’ll have left London and the background will be a little too suspicious. But he has them for himself, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thank you goes to @agingphangirl and @whatdoiknowx for their little bits of help with this story! come say hi on tumblr [@huphilpuffs](huphilpuffs.tumblr.com)!


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